Tuesday, September 15, 2015

The OTHER Response

Sometimes, when the kids talk to me, I have an entirely different conversation with them in my head than what I actually say.

****

Charles: Mom, what’s that?

Me (what I wanted to say): That’s a type of French cheese called brie, and it is a great demonstration of the virtue of patience. I bought this round of brie six weeks ago and I have resisted the urge to sample it until now because I knew it needed to ripen in the refrigerator. See the orange-y tint under the rind? See the gooey center? Smell the subtle bouquet? Taste the complex flavor? None of that would have been possible if I had been impatient and consumed it a month ago or even ten days ago. But now! Oh, how glorious!

Me (what I actually said): That’s a type of French cheese called brie.

Jamie: I want to try it!

Me: Charles, do you want some, too?

Charles: No, it looks gross.

Jamie: I don’t like it.

Me: More for meeee!

*****

Charles: But Mom! It’s not fair!

Me (what I wanted to say): No, Charles, what’s not fair is the ENORMOUS amount of time I spend reminding you to complete normal daily operations, like getting dressed, brushing your teeth, and putting on shoes before school. What’s not fair is that you complain about what I make for dinner every. single. night. without fail. What’s not fair is that I still experience teenage-level acne as a 34-year-old adult. What’s not fair is that chocolate and wine have calories.

Me (what I actually said): Charles, this is fair. You made a poor choice, you deal with the consequences.

******

Charles: Mom! I’m bleeding! There’s blood on my hand!

Me: Where?

Charles: Right here!

Me, barely noticing his tiny wound, a pinprick of blood on the palm of his hand: Oh, no! Charles is bleeding! SO MUCH BLOOD! Call the newspaper! Call the doctor! Call the President!

Charles: Mo-om…

Me (what I wanted to say): Honey, I’m on the second day of my period, and it’s like Carrie at the fucking prom up in here. You have no idea what bleeding is.